


... But A Hulk Ain't One

by auchterlonie



Series: An Agent's Life [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Natasha, F/M, Learning to trust, finding each other, little bit of sexy times, smart guys can be BAMF in their ownway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auchterlonie/pseuds/auchterlonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Nemesis, Natasha Romanov is left to pick up other people's pieces. That's not surprising to her - she's been doing that since she was a child. She's always been a pawn in other people's games.</p>
<p>She finds herself babysitting a fugitive Banner at Coulson's request, an annoying and difficult task her busy schedule doesn't make any easier. Still, she comes to realize they have more in common than she'd realized. Slowly and grudgingly, she finds herself changing her attitude towards Banner as he proves to be someone she can trust and respect. Perhaps even come to love.</p>
<p>This is somewhat of a standalone tale, but comes as the result of other stories. I've written a 'previously on' style note summing up key events for anyone who would like to read this as a standalone, or start the series at this point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	... But A Hulk Ain't One

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to epeeblade for the beta. Your wisdom is always appreciated.   
> ********************************************************************************  
> Previously in "An Agent’s Life"
> 
> Coulson woke after the Battle of New York not knowing he’d been ‘rebuilt’ in Stark’s lab; a combination of organic and synthetic parts that made him essentially just as he’d always been. He started a relationship with Clint Barton that withstood several tests, including their learning about Coulson’s ‘recovery.’ 
> 
> But Stark has not been the same; he is haunted by the attack and obsessed with his team’s safety. These ill-guided thoughts lead him to experiment on Banner without his knowledge, hoping to ‘save’ him from the Hulk. It goes badly, however, and results in the Avengers being scattered to the winds and in various states of injury. 
> 
> While trying to salvage the situation, Coulson stumbles upon a secret town – Pottsville, NY - built and run by Stark and Steve Rogers, which houses teams of scientists and others with the expressed purpose of investigating SHIELD activities. They stumble upon a secret cabal running SHIELD from the shadows and a dark mind control program that ensnares Clint Barton. 
> 
> Before they can mount a rescue operation, Coulson comes to realize the emotional pain Stark is in. He realizes Stark is not the quasi villain he’d begun to suspect but rather, that his increasingly dangerous and erratic actions have been the result of a desperate desire to keep his team safe. But Pepper will have none of it. She blames Coulson for Stark’s life-threatening injuries and whisks him away, trying to protect him from that very team.
> 
> Calling on Maria Hill’s assistance, Banner and Coulson infiltrate SHIELD HQ to stop and rescue Barton and an injured Natasha. They stop the cabal and the mind control program, but at great cost to SHIELD operations and political clout. Worse, it costs all of Barton’s fragile trust. Coulson takes him away and hides him in Pottsville to recover, leaving Natasha to clean up the mess, including the now fugitive Banner. 
> 
> ******************************************************************************

“… But a Hulk Ain’t One”

Natasha Romanov was rarely surprised by people or events. She was a master spy and her ability to understand, blend, and manipulate kept her and others alive.

A lifetime of study and brutal experimentation had honed her skills until she was confidant she could manipulate anyone into doing anything she wanted. Or, more correctly, into doing anything that her handlers wanted them to do.  She was and always had been the means to someone else’s ends. It was a harsh reality that often left her jaded and bored, but reality – harsh or otherwise – was exactly that and she’d stopped questioning it long before.

Which was why, perhaps, it was so surprising for her to learn it didn’t necessarily have to be that way.

Natasha moved across the dark room, picking up pieces of her discarded clothes as she went. Her steps didn’t make a sound as she slipped out the window and onto the fire escape’s landing. She rubbed the chill from her arms and relished breathing in the night air; it reminded her of home and she smiled at the few good memories she still held of that place.

Her house guest stirred inside and she found her smile didn’t fall away at the sound. It would seem she had a few good memories of this place as well.

But, still, the time had come to leave.

Leaning back against the brick wall, she listened to the sounds of the city. It had been as a good a place as any she had lived, but now she found herself wanting more. A quiet excitement slowly built in her as she thought about starting a new life, one of her own choosing. It felt terrifying and unfamiliar. It was exhilarating.

She was a master spy. Her ability to manipulate others had kept her alive all these years. It was kind of funny to her, therefore, that those abilities had led her to someone who trusted her implicitly. It was the one thing she would never have believed she’d want so desperately.

***

Several weeks earlier, she’d woken up in a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility, having lost two days and all sense of what was going on. Banner had drugged her after an unfortunate ‘misunderstanding’ and through that drugged haze, she’d fought her way through whole squads of young S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to try and stop Barton from killing Fury. Nothing about it had made any sense to her, even after she’d driven a dagger-like needle of adrenaline into her heart and cleared her mind’s fog away.

Coulson and Hill had shown up at that point, asking her where Barton had gone. Natasha hadn’t known and hadn’t tried to understand the circumstances because her tired mind had already latched onto the one thing she didn’t need to think much about: she’d heard the Hulk’s distinctive roar rumble through the building and knew he was one problem she could handle without discussion or need for explanation.

Hospital gown flapping in the breeze, she’d chased him through S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and out onto the streets of New York. He roared at her and, adrenaline coursing through her system, she’d roared back. She had been in no mood for his crap.

She aimed for his weakest point and emptied her rifle into his ankle, causing him to stumble and crash through power lines. Sparks lit up the avenue as transformers exploded and live lines zapped against his skin.

There was an awful smell of burnt flesh in the air as he lay in the street, twitching from the electricity. Another transformer exploded and the lines closest to him seemed to go dead. He started to shrink and return to his human form.

Never slowing down, she got to Banner before the beat cops or screaming civilians could register fully what was happening. She slung him up and over her shoulder into a fireman’s carry, then moved quickly down the sidewalk before turning down a side street and kicking her way through a gated courtyard. Never looking back, she made her way through narrow alleyways and street traffic, eventually finding a car and ‘borrowing’ it.

Her mind began to clear some more as she made her way towards S.H.I.E.L.D. She thought back to what she’d seen in Medical –Clint attacking Fury, young agents with identical tattoos helping him, Coulson and Hill seemingly clueless – whatever she had missed in those two lost days, it had been a game changer and she was suddenly very reluctant to bring Banner into that situation.

Turning left when she should have turned right, she instead took him to her place. Her protective instincts had kicked in and she wanted to hear from Coulson before she made her next move. She carried Banner up to her apartment and settled him onto the couch, then went back out to ditch the car and get a general sense of the chaos and aftermath.

By the time she returned, he was awake and struggling to hold a glass of water in his shaking hands. He turned to face her and she could see that he was scared, but she eyed him without sympathy. With a spare secure phone, she messaged Coulson and waited out several awkwardly silent minutes before he messaged back.

_> >Keep Banner safe until you hear from me. _

Natasha didn’t question, she just obeyed. She changed into tactical gear and moved towards the door, checking her systems.

“Agent Romanov?” Banner called out to her. She turned and looked at his pathetic, wide-eyed face and waited for him to continue.

“What do we do now?” he asked after a hesitation.

“ _We_ don’t do anything. You lay low.”

***

Natasha was not the sentimental type; her world was heavily regulated by unwritten rules, none of which allowed for emotional attachments. Her two exceptions to those rules, however, were Clint and Coulson. She never worried about them – they were two of the most competent individuals she’d ever met – but their lives were things she took more seriously than her own. She had lost Coulson once and it had felt like losing a limb, like she would never again be able to function the way she once had. Helping Clint through his grief had somehow felt even worse. It was like her heart had ripped, as if after strenuously using muscles she’d had little call to use before.

Coulson’s next message brought out many of those same feelings when she read it just after dawn.

_> >I’m taking Clint away. I’ll be in touch if I can. Keep Banner’s head down._

She had too many questions that she knew better than to ask. If he’d meant to give details, he would have given them in person. She had to trust his discretion.

_> >Understood_, she replied.

For a moment she wondered if she’d ever see them again. She knew the love they had for each other. She knew that Clint was the one person – the one thing – that could make Coulson forsake S.H.I.E.L.D. She didn’t even think Clint understood that yet, not fully, but she knew that if Clint needed to be away, Coulson would take him without question and Natasha would become just a pleasant memory of their former lives.

She understood it, even as it hardened her heart a little more and made S.H.I.E.L.D. a colder place.

After a moment, she looked over at Banner. He was asleep on the couch with his bandaged ankle propped up over the edge. She hated babysitting, but knew Coulson wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need Banner safe. She would see it done.

And the best way to do that, she figured, was to pretend she didn’t have him.

She snuck out quietly, reported to HQ, and lied her ass off. She’d lost Banner in the city… the power outage had fried key surveillance… locals were probably hiding him – Hero of New York, and all. He’d turn up eventually.

If Hill even thought of questioning her, she hadn’t let on. Instead, she brought Natasha up to speed on the events she’d missed and the resulting chaos; Fury was in surgery, Clint and Coulson were missing, and agents from throughout the divisions were either in Medical or in need of new direction. She left Natasha to prioritize operations while she handled the political fallout.

It was two days before Natasha returned home. She was not surprised to see that Banner was gone despite her very simple instructions not to leave the apartment under any circumstance.

She’d planned for it, though, and had had him followed by one of her private informants. She surprised him stepping out of a rat-trap motel near the Battery. He looked tired, stressed, and just a bit pale, but still looked at her calmly before turning and walking away as if her presence was of no consequence to him.

He moved down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and his head down. She followed at close distance until he finally seemed to accept that she wasn’t going away.

“I’m not going back with you, Agent,” he said turning to face her.

“And why would you, Doc? You’re clearly a hard man to track down. I mean, you got what? A whole ten blocks in two days? You’re practically special ops.”

He shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh. “They have my face up in all the transit stations.”

“Gee... if only you had somewhere safe to lay low and not draw attention…”

“I’m not drawing attention here.”

“Oh really?” she asked. “Not even from them?” She nodded towards the parked police cruiser and the two uniforms who were trying very hard not to look directly at them while they spoke into their radios. “Let me guess. You popped into a bodega and everyone was really nice to you…”

He shook his head and sighed as realization dawned. “A Duane Reed,” he replied after a beat. “I needed a toothbrush.”

She laughed at him. “You’re an idiot.”

The two cops who had been watching them got out of their car and started walking towards them.

“The city is very interested in finding you, Doc,” she continued. “Coming with me is your only option.”

“Is that so?” he asked, clenching his fists and jaw. “Is that my _only_ option?”

“Yes,” she answered calmly, leaving neither room for doubt nor argument. He hesitated and seemed to consider her. She didn’t take her steady eyes from him, even as the officers arrived.

“I want to see your hands,” called out the first officer. Natasha winked up at Bruce and then pushed him lightly to the side. She disarmed the two officers before the first had even cleared his pistol from its holster. They were on the ground in a flash and she field-stripped their guns while they watched in shocked awe.

“Officers… Cadalzo and Rosinski,” she said after making a show of checking the names on their jackets. “Do you know who I am?” They both nodded sheepishly in reply. “Good,” she continued. “This was a case of mistaken identity, you understand?”

They hesitated and she squatted down to make sure her features were at eye level. She winked at Cadalzo – he looked the type to respond to that sort of thing – as she handed him back the butt of his gun. “You understand, right?” she purred out quietly and with one her most alluring smiles. She slowly placed a finger to her lips. “It’s important. We weren’t here.” She winked again.

_“Cadalzo. What’s the word?”_ came across his radio.

Natasha moved in slowly until her face was within a hair’s breadth of his. His breathing faltered slightly at her nearness and then again more sharply as he felt her place a blade against his balls.

“Answer it,” she said to him, calmly and quietly.

“Uh… it’s not him, Sarge.”

_“You sure?”_

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just some homeless guy. Doesn’t even look like him.”

_“Copy. We’ll find the sumbitch.”_

Natasha smiled and kissed him on the cheek for his trouble. “Thank you, sweetheart. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it,” he stuttered back in reply.

She stood and started walking away at pace, hauling Bruce along by the arm as she went.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked as they rounded a corner.

She didn’t answer him; she just continued to walk quickly and purposely away. She led him on a meandering path through streets, courtyards, and shops before rounding a final corner. She made the turn, but he refused to follow. It caught her by surprise.

Natasha turned and stared at him like a stubborn child. He stared back and smiled defiantly before turning and ducking into a bakery. He ordered a donut and two coffees and then moved to a table in the back. She followed him reluctantly and sat down across from him. He passed her the second coffee as she crossed her arms defensively across her chest.

“What are you doing?” she finally demanded of him.

“I’m waiting for an answer. Why are you doing this?” he asked, casually taking a sip.

She stared at him like he’d just spoken gibberish. She wasn’t used to people challenging her.

“Fuck you, that’s why.”

He chuckled and looked at his coffee. “You’re not much for small talk, are you?” She stared back, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “It’s alright,” he continued. “I’m not usually one for small talk either, but you owe me an answer.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Then why protect me… if you don’t owe me anything, that is?”

“What do you care? You’re safe with me. That’s enough.”

“No, not really,” he answered. He sat back and rubbed a hand through his unruly hair. “See, Tony made me a similar offer not so long ago and that didn’t work out that well for me. Or for him.” He looked up, pointedly making eye contact. “Or for you. I’ve since learned that ‘why’ is a very important question to ask.”

“Maybe I’m just a nice person.”

He chuckled. “Yes, maybe you are. But that’s not really good enough for me. Tell me why or I walk out of here right now.”

“You think that’s something you can do?” she asked, quietly pulling the knife from her thigh holster.

“Yes,” he answered in a very friendly way.

He paused and broke his donut open. He placed half in front of her and took a bite from his half. He was clearly giving her time to consider not only his statement, but his very calm presence in the room.

“It’s simple physics, really. If it was just us sitting here right now, I don’t think I’d make it up from my chair, but it isn’t just us, is it? Our little table for two is really a table for three. You and I both know that if I want out of this little arrangement, I can just walk away, simple as that. You won’t be able to stop me. So how about instead you just tell me why you’re protecting me and I’ll decide if I’m going to continue playing nice or let the Other Guy have his way.”

She sat back and coolly considered him. She could count on one hand the number of people who had challenged her in her life and had been, in her estimation, up to the task, but Banner was the first among them she thought could actually win the fight. She knew she could challenge the Hulk in the right situation and with the right equipment – she’d proven that – but in open combat among civilians armed only with her knives?  She was realistic enough to know it was a fight she might not win. It felt like a stalemate and she considered him with a fraction of something resembling respect.

After a moment, she holstered the knife and pulled off a bite from the donut.

“Coulson asked me to.”

“Hmm…” he replied, nodding. “That’s kind of what I thought and I’m afraid that’s not good enough.” He stood.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, not looking up at him, but assessing his weak points all the same.

“You’re following orders and orders can change.”

“It wasn’t an order – it was a request.”

Bruce stopped at that and looked down at her. She casually pulled another bite off the donut and popped it in her mouth.

“Coulson’s not an agent anymore,” she continued. “Keeping you safe was his last request of me. I will see it done, whether you make it easy or not.”

He watched her for a long moment and then sat down, seeming wary, but satisfied. “Alright, but I need to pick up a few things. There is very little to do at your place.”

***

She ‘borrowed’ most of what he wanted and got him settled back at her place. She shipped out to Tbilisi the next morning and he promised not to leave.  She was not surprised when she returned several days later to find him still there, but thoroughly surprised to see the state of her apartment.

The table was stacked high with papers and books. He’d acquired a second laptop and a large corkboard that stood against a wall and was covered in graphs, charts, and nonsensical phrases. The smell of stale take-out was heavy and the couch looked well-lived on.

“Your shit is everywhere. How do you even have this much shit? I told you not to leave.”

“I didn’t leave,” he replied, looking up from the mound of papers spread across the table. “This is New York. I had everything delivered.”

She stared in disbelief. “You can’t possibly be that stupid. What if someone had recognized you?”  She moved back towards the door and started checking her security system.

“Relax. I had everything delivered to your neighbor – you know, the one you have watching me?”

She stopped what she was doing and slowly turned to look at him. He was smiling and holding her stare; he was obviously proud of himself for having spotted her precaution. She shook her head and walked back to the kitchen. She hated smart guys.

“He’s not watching you, he’s just… watching. That’s what he does.”

“You have a guy to watch the hallway?”

She nodded like it should have been obvious and pulled a whiskey bottle from a cabinet. She winced slightly before taking a long swig.

“Are you ok?” he asked, hostility suddenly gone from his voice and replaced with caution.

“Fine,” she answered. She took another long swig and closed her eyes, feeling it do its work. She heard him start to move towards her, so she pushed past him before he could enter the kitchen and went down the hall. She started a shower and stretched carefully, testing muscle movement and for broken bones. Relatively satisfied, she moved in and let the hot water wash her new wounds before pulling a small kit and stitching them closed.

She reached out to the sink and pulled the whiskey bottle in with her. She took a long drink and pretended the heat didn’t burn and the wounds didn’t sting. Half a bottle down, she started the process of digging a bullet from her arm.

She cleaned the wound, stitched it closed, and then killed the water. She stepped out and surveyed the damage in the mirror. She had a jagged cut across the small of her back. It looked like it was going to be a difficult angle to stitch from and she started to regret some of the whiskey as she considered the contortions required to do it.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

“Natasha? Are you alright?”

“I said I was fine.”

“I know you did,” he replied. “But then you bled all over the kitchen and hallway. Call me crazy, but I am a little suspicious you were lying to me.”

“I didn’t lie. I’m fine…” her voice raised in inflection on the last word, wincing as she’d jabbed the threaded needle in at just the wrong angle.

“Natasha, please. Let me in. Let me help.”

“Don’t see how you can, Doc. You’re not that kind of doc.”

“Then let me take you to that kind of doc; someone who can help.”

“No thanks. Almost done,” she said with more strain.

“Why didn’t you go back to S.H.I.E.L.D.? They must have a medical staff?”

“They do, they’re just not high on… on my list… right now,” she answered, stuttering just a bit with the pain she was trying to convince herself she didn’t feel.

“Natasha. Let me in. Please.”

She looked at the stitching in the mirror and accepted it wasn’t going well. She hated to admit it, but she could use a second set of hands. She opened the door and looked at him. His eyes quickly darted to the new stitching on her arm and then to the others. His eyes eventually settled up on hers and his look seemed a combination of shock and concern.

“Did you do that yourself? Natasha…”

“Ever stitch a knife wound, Doc?” she asked, cutting him off and swiveling just enough to show him the blood on her back. He swallowed slightly.

“No, but I’ve handled some pretty delicate things. I can do it,” he answered, putting more confidence in his voice than she suspected he actually had. She had just enough whiskey in her to think it was insulting. Or adorable. She had just enough whiskey in her to be unable to distinguish between the two.

She handed him the needle and turned her back to watch him in the mirror. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected to see; perhaps an ‘absent-minded professor’ fumbling with the needle, him queasy and seasick at the sight of her blood, or maybe just another man standing stock-still at the sight of her naked body, but she saw none of those things. He looked like a different man to her. He looked serious, focused, confidant… not the shifty ‘smart guy’ she’d so often seen him as.

He worked quickly and methodically, and then looked up to catch her eyes in the mirror.

“There. I think that will hold.”

She didn’t think he could possibly have been done. It hadn’t hurt nearly enough. She swiveled her hips to examine his work in the mirror and was surprised to see the neat row of stitches. It didn’t even look like it would scar too badly. She was surprised and impressed.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. He looked down towards the floor and ran a hand through his hair as he slowly backed into the hallway. He smiled lopsidedly and shrugged in a ‘no big deal’ type of motion. He started to walk away but then stopped himself, like he was debating something. He slowly looked up and met her eyes again.

“Would you have done that by yourself if I hadn’t been here?”

She nodded, not understanding why he’d ask such an obvious question. He considered that and nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply before slowly walking back down the hall. He had given her a look of pity and she was surprised by how much it stung. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her in quite that way; decades at least.

Well, fuck him anyway, she thought. Who was he to feel sorry for her? She took another drink and went back to her room. She hated smart guys.

***

She shipped out to Odessa the next morning and he promised not to leave. She was not surprised when she returned a week later and found him still there, but was once again surprised by the state of her apartment.

He had cleaned up and done very well about it. The table was still piled high with papers and books, but everything was neater and apparently organized. The corkboard seemed less chaotic, the couch had been ‘made’ – if that was something you could do to a couch – and the air didn’t smell as much like ‘bachelor.’

He was sitting in the window with his feet dangling out over the fire escape. He held a notepad loosely in his hand and seemed genuinely lost in thought. She wasn’t sure he’d heard her walk in.

She dropped her stuff and moved to the kitchen. She wanted coffee and was surprised to see just how many grinds he’d gone through while she’d been away. He’d clearly run out, ordered more, and then run out again. She turned back to consider him.

“Been keeping busy, Doc?” she called out. It startled him out of his thoughts. He flipped the notepad closed and swung back inside. He looked at her with a wide-eyed bleariness that told her he hadn’t slept in a while.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, moving to the table. He pocketed the notepad and started pulling some papers down from the board. “Sorry for the mess,” he added, shoving the papers into a folder.

She shrugged and got down a second mug while the very last of the coffee started to brew. “You found a problem to work on?”

“You could say that. Did the stitches hold?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yes,” she lied. They’d split, but as a result of an unfortunate bar fight she’d ended, not because of his stitching. She didn’t think she could blame him for that.

“What are you working on, Doc?” she asked, changing the subject back.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. The tired, serious look on his face made it obvious it was going to be an important question to him. She decided to give him a tiny measure of her trust. She considered it repayment for his showing up against the Chitauri.

“Why did you join the Avengers?” he asked.

She hadn’t expected the question and smirked at his brazenness. “Oh, so nothing too personal, just a fairly general question then…”

“Please,” he interrupted. He held her gaze, his eyes not quite pleading with her, but definitely seeking something. She swallowed her smirk and answered truthfully. 

“Because of Coulson.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s the best handler I’ve ever had. When he asked me, I said ‘yes.’”

“But he asked you; you had a choice. It was something you wanted to do?”

“Of course. Why do you want to know, Doc?”

He shrugged and shuffled some papers. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

“Hmmm…” she replied, her curiosity peaked. She poured the coffees and walked over to the table. “’Curious’ I’ll accept, but you don’t strike me as random, Doc. What prompted the question?”

He didn’t reply or look up at her, just quietly shuffled some more papers.

“Doc, if something has you spooked, you can tell me. I might be able to help,” she asked in the practiced tone that had gotten countless enemy ‘lovers’ to confess their secrets to her. She’d expected him to sigh and get whatever it was off his chest. He surprised her, though, and instead moved back to his corkboard. He pulled a few more papers down and added them to a folder.

“What makes him the best handler you’ve ever had?” he asked finally, not dropping his original thought.

She wrinkled her forehead in confusion, but again, he seemed to be pleading for an honest answer. He looked exhausted and like he was on the cusp of some very important decision. She decided to give him just a fraction more of her trust. She wanted to see where this was going.

But first, she had to think about how to answer. What she had with Coulson was an almost instinctual partnership; they rarely had to speak to communicate and they were always on the same page. He had a rare, almost prescient gift when it came to intelligence gathering. He seemed to be able to find problems and their necessary solutions before they ever became problems, like he understood everything about a situation; the environment, the people, the causes, and the ramifications. He never made mistakes and he always did the right thing. He was the only handler she’d ever known that she would actually die to protect.

“I trust him,” she said simply, but with great conviction. 

He watched her face and then slowly nodded. “And you’re not the kind of person to trust anyone,” he replied as a simple statement of understanding rather than a question.

He sat down and accepted the coffee. He looked like he desperately needed to talk but didn’t yet trust her enough, so she projected herself as a very calm, stable presence and gave him a moment to collect his thoughts – he seemed like he needed that sort of thing.

“Have you ever been in a bad situation that you just accepted as permanent, only to have someone come along out of the blue and show you a whole different option, one you never even thought possible?” he asked after a moment.

She nodded, thinking of Clint and Coulson talking her out of Russia. It had been the end of a very bad situation and they had filled her with a hope she hadn’t thought could exist.

He nodded in acknowledgement and waved a hand at the papers. “Well, that’s what this is: a whole new option I never thought possible. A way to change my situation.”

She looked around the table and tried to see it. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him, but the squiggles and charts she’d spied had struck her as a lot less obviously life changing than Clint holding an arrow to her neck had been for her. Bruce seemed to read her doubt, though, and smiled.

“When you came to Stark’s, did you know what he’d done to me?”

She nodded. She’d gone with Coulson that morning because Stark had filled Bruce with nanites, searching for a way to separate him from the Hulk. Things had gone badly, leading to their present situation.

“Stark has his issues, but his instincts are rarely wrong.”

“Is this a way to separate you?” she asked, trying to pull the pieces together.

“No,” he answered firmly. “That can’t happen. The Hulk… we’re not two different things. He’s me. I’m him.”

“So you were the one who threw me through a bulkhead, not the Other Guy?”

He winced and looked sheepishly at her. “Yes. And no. It’s complicated.” She continued to stare. He let out a breath and slid forward in his chair, closer to her.

“See, the Hulk – he’s rage, but it’s a rage that’s already inside me. What happened to me, it amplifies everything. It manifests the Hulk after certain triggers: anger, fear, frustration… it’s why I try so hard to stay calm and logical about everything, but even still… I can’t _prevent_ him from coming out. You can’t just _not_ be afraid or angry. Sometimes... you just are those things and you don’t even realize how much they’ve taken hold over you until it’s too late. And then, once they have… there is no logic left, no reason, just rage. That’s what the Hulk is – he’s me, just at that point where I’m no longer me.”

“So… this is a way to prevent you from getting to that point?”

“Sort of. See… and don’t be mad, but Stark found something and we’ve kind of been talking about it.”

“You’ve been… talking to Stark. While in hiding.”

He flinched a little. “Kind of.”

She stilled her breath to prevent her own frustration taking hold. It really was staggering to her just how stupid ‘smart’ guys could be.

“It was online and anonymous and we talked kind of in code…” he continued. She continued to stare back, trying to decide why she even bothered hiding him if he was going to announce his presence all over the internet. She’d have to get into the S.H.I.E.L.D. databases later and make sure the conversations hadn’t been noticed.

“Well, Tony found a way to monitor the triggers. He thinks he can track the chemical signatures and give me a kind of early warning system. It would give me time to react before the Other Guy showed up. I could dose myself to stop him.”

“Sounds great, Doc. What’s the problem?”

“I keep thinking… once someone can identify the trigger, maybe they can learn how to pull it.”

Natasha tensed as she started to consider the ramifications of that: a weaponized Hulk. It was a terrifying notion. She knew there was no shortage of individuals and organizations that would kill to have that power. Maybe even S.H.I.E.L.D. itself. She paled a little as she thought of the bloodshed that would come as global powers fought to acquire and use Banner for their own purposes. She paled a little more at the thought of the bloodshed that would come after.

“It’s a scary thought, isn’t it,” he asked, seeming to agree with her unspoken thoughts. “I trust Tony, but maybe not that much, you know? He doesn’t always think through problems beyond their immediate solutions.”

“You don’t have to do whatever he’s proposing,” she replied, suddenly feeling very protective of him and unusually hostile towards Stark. She wondered if he was the threat Coulson had been wary of.

“Don’t I?” he asked, surprising her. “I mean, I have a certain level of responsibility, don’t I? I have to protect people. I can’t live my life walking around like a ticking time bomb, one car’s backfire away from taking down a building.”

“There are other ways to prevent that, you’ve been proving that every day.”

“Not very well. I mean look at me – I help Coulson one time and I end up hiding for days. And with good reason.” He sighed and pushed back in his chair. “But what if I could change that – what if _I_ could learn to pull the trigger?”

She looked up into his serious face and found she couldn’t judge what he was thinking. Did he want to be a weapon? Was he the threat? He seemed to read her hesitation and inched closer.

“Think about, Natasha. What good was I to you guys in New York or on the helicarrier? The whole time, we were all thinking it: when is he going to explode? What if instead, I’d been there knowing I had some say in the matter – that I could see the Other Guy coming and either dose myself or call him to come sooner. That would have been better, wouldn’t it? No one afraid of me unless they had reason to be?”

“So then what’s the problem, Doc? If it would help you and it’s something you want…”

“Because once the Other Guy is out, there’s no stopping him until he wants to be stopped.  Who am I to make that call?” he asked sharply. “I mean, _clearly_ I have anger issues… what if I get it wrong? What if it becomes too easy to settle my problems with the Other Guy? What if the wrong hands I fall into are my own?”

By her estimation, he was over-thinking things. He was looking right past all the potential good and only seeing the potential problems. It was like Stark and his endless line of new and “improved” suits – the manifestations of a mind that could only ever see the flaws and could never be satisfied.

Fucking smart guys, she thought to herself. For all their bluster, they could never really see their own promise and learn to just trust themselves.

And then it suddenly dawned on her why Banner had all of those rage issues in the first place: he hated himself – truly, honestly hated himself and feared his own potential. It caused her to pause and reconsider him.

Self-hate was something she understood very well. She’d spent a lifetime hating herself or, rather, hating what she’d been made into. She’d had no choice, no say. They’d made her into this terrifying, angry machine that could take lives without hesitating. That cold murderer was hidden beneath the appearance of beautiful young woman, but it was always there and would never go away – it was as much a part of her as any other part. Who she could have been was an irrelevant question that did nothing but foster more hate.

Her situation at S.H.I.E.L.D. was infinitely better than the one she’d had with her previous employer, but she knew it was largely a façade. Clint and Coulson aside, S.H.I.E.L.D. viewed her strictly as a weapon. They chose the aim and they pulled the trigger, but she still lived with the consequences, as she always had. That they were arguably better and more understandable consequences was also irrelevant; she still killed without hesitation. It was what they wanted her to be.

S.H.I.E.L.D. would never allow her to be any different, just as the Hulk would never allow Bruce to be any different.

It didn’t quite break her heart, but it forced her to reassess what he was after.

“You want a handler. That’s why you asked me about Coulson,” she replied, pulling the pieces of their conversation together.

He nodded with apparent relief that she’d understood and she shook her head that he apparently hadn’t. She knew that he was hoping for an easy solution – that Stark would give him tech, Coulson would give him direction, and all of his responsibility for the Hulk would somehow go away – but she also knew it wasn’t going to be that simple. One of her chief lessons in life had been accepting that everyone had to take responsibility for who they were, even if who they were wasn’t who they wanted to be.

“That problem won’t be resolved with a handler, Doc, Coulson or otherwise. That’s not how it works.”  She made herself look as open and sympathetic as she could muster; she didn’t want him to think she was just being contrary. She tried to think how to explain how she coped with her own situation. She thought about Coulson and how he never coddled her. He allowed no excuses and so, she never created any. His faith gave her faith and vice versa. It was circular logic, but it was the key to their partnership.

“I trust Coulson,” she explained. “But it only works because he trusts me in return. He’s the best handler I’ve ever had because I _know_ he isn’t going to send me somewhere unless he needs me there – specifically me – because I’m the one with the skills to get the job done. He knows what I can do and he trusts that once there, I’ll do whatever needs to be done, even if that means deviating from the original plan. He trusts me as much as I do him. And Doc,” she added, leaning in towards him. “That’s the key. If you don’t trust yourself, there’s nothing a handler can do to fix that.”

Banner’s face had started to cloud over and she knew she’d derailed his thoughts perhaps a bit too far, but she also knew it was important he understood. She reached out and placed a hand over his, hoping it would soften her comments.

“Before I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., I hurt a lot of people and it didn’t matter to me. They were of no consequence. But at some point… it started to matter. When Clint and Coulson showed up, it was an opportunity to stop being who I was and take a chance on being someone better. Maybe that’s what this is for you. Don’t worry so much about Coulson or Stark. Ask yourself instead who you want to be. Everything starts with you, Doc.”

He watched her carefully and after a moment, squeezed her hand lightly. He smiled briefly and looked down at his feet, nodding as he did.

“I know. Thanks,” he said in a quiet, disappointed kind of way.

“Doc…” she started, but he waved a tired, dismissing hand.

“You’re right. The Other Guy is my problem first and foremost. I have to figure him out before I can put him on others.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Doc…”

He squeezed her hand again, stopping her. He smiled in such a way that she knew was no longer listening. He started to stand and leaned in, giving her a very light kiss on the cheek.

“It’s alright, Natasha. I’m tired, I’m probably over-thinking things. Thank you for listening.” He stood the rest of the way and walked over to the couch. “I’m sure I’ll be more clear-headed in the morning.”

She knew it would take him another few minutes to fall asleep, but she also knew the conversation was over. It surprised her how much it affected her. She didn’t know what he had wanted or expected to hear from her; all she had to offer him was honesty.

She watched him rest for another few minutes, knowing there was probably something she should have said differently or something she could say still, but she just couldn’t think of it. It was disturbing to her. She always knew what to say to make someone come around to her way of thinking.

But then she realized that was probably the problem. At some point, she had stopped trying to manipulate him and instead, tried to just talk to him. It was unsettling how an honest conversation had failed so miserably and had left her questioning even herself.

She set down the coffee and dismissed the whole conversation, blaming everything on Stark. He was the one who had derailed Banner first; it wasn’t her fault if she couldn’t rein him in. It wasn’t her job. She didn’t know why she’d even tried.

She shut the light and moved back towards her bedroom. She hated smart guys, especially smart guys who couldn’t see how good they were. Or that there was always hope for people like them.

***

She shipped out to some backwater outside of Flagstaff the next morning and he promised not to leave. She was relieved to find him still there when she returned several days later. His bags were packed and he was sitting at the table, writing out a note. He looked up at her, folded the note, and put it in his pocket. She felt suddenly and inexplicably defensive.

“Doc,” she said by way of a greeting.

“Natasha,” he replied, smiling.

She dropped her gear next to his bags. “I guess this means you’re leaving.”

“Yes,” he replied simply.

She moved passed him and into the kitchen. She poured herself a drink and turned to face him, leaning her weight against the counter.

“Where are you planning to go?”

He came over and stood in front of her. He waited until she met his eyes and then took the bottle. He poured himself a drink.

She couldn’t help but note the difference in him. He’d clearly made a decision he was happy with and the resulting confidence was evident from his body language.

“Tony has invited me to his lab in Washington… and just my telling you that is me trusting you. He doesn’t want you to know where he is.”

“Then why tell me?”

“Because you were right. He’s giving me an opportunity to be the person I want to be. I have to take it.”

“That’s going to make my job harder. I won’t be able to keep an eye on you if you drop off the radar.”

“No,” he conceded. “But that’s part of why I’m going. What you said really stuck with me and I realized that what I want is to be someone you can trust. This is how that starts. I want you to trust me to go.”

She watched him closely and with skepticism. “Trusting you and trusting Stark are two very different things.”

He smiled broadly at that. “So you _do_ trust me.”

Her eyes narrowed as she got more defensive. It was staggering how much this was starting to affect her. He was a hindrance to her life more than anything – why wasn’t she thrilled to pawn him off onto someone else?

“I didn’t say that,” she replied. “But I definitely don’t trust Stark. What if he does something to you? Again.”

“Well… then I think what I’m asking is for you to trust that I can handle him. I know his games, but… I also know what I want now. I can make that clear to him.” He finished his drink and set it down. “This is something I can do, Natasha”

It hadn’t been a question, but he still looked like he wanted her approval. Maybe even her blessing.

Boy, was he going to be disappointed.

She started to tell him it was another stupid decision on his part – that she couldn’t protect him once he left and he’d be either imprisoned or dead within a week.

She started to tell him he was far too trusting and far too forgiving of Stark – that he was better off there with her, where he’d never have to watch his back.

She started to tell him any number of things, but instead, she realized she was just creating excuses. It was embarrassing. She sure as shit wasn’t going to miss him – that wasn’t what this emotion was. Was she worried? Concerned?

Fuck it; it didn’t matter. Whatever this was, she wasn’t going to allow it to continue. She would not make excuses, either for herself or for him.

She shrugged like his comment was no big deal to her. “Free country, Doc. Do what you want.”

His expression suddenly dropped from a hopeful grin to confused disappointment.

“Nat…” he started, but she ignored him. She pushed past him, taking the bottle with her, and moved to the bedroom to stitch her wounds. She heard him shut the lights a little while later and then noted the subtle spring of the couch as he lay down.

Fucking smart guys.

***

She shipped out to Sydney the next morning and he promised to be gone when she returned. She told herself she was not disappointed in any way when she returned to find the apartment exactly as it had been before the whole thing with Banner had started.

Her rooms were clean and organized. Perhaps, if pressed, she would admit they seemed a bit sterile. And that the kitchen table suddenly seemed massive without Bruce’s shit all over it.

She dropped her gear and poured a drink.

***

She shipped out to Buenos Aires the next morning. Then to D.C., Toulon, and Stuttgart. In all, it proved a busy month, but when she finally made it home again, she did so knowing that operations were finally settling down. S.H.I.E.L.D. was approaching routine normalcy again and the pulls on her time were less urgent.

Except, of course, for the questions that continued to be asked about the missing Avengers. While Fury’s operations had reasserted S.H.I.E.L.D.’s ability to handle global issues without them, a mild nervousness had settled over the organization as higher ranking agents had more time to consider the ramifications of their disappearance and if they were becoming a potential threat. Natasha knew agents were beginning to wonder if she had more information than she had provided. She was a master spy, after all, and hadn’t always been loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. She knew she’d suspect herself if the situation had been reversed and didn’t blame them.

But then again, she knew she’d have already gotten the information out of herself if the situation had been reversed and yet no one at S.H.I.E.L.D. had even had the balls to ask her directly about it. Not even Fury. Either they were laying a trap for her, or they were far too trusting and naive. Either way, if felt amateurish and she was getting bored of it.

She missed Coulson. Hell, she missed Banner. At least he could carry on a conversation.

Her ‘hall guy’ was waiting for her at her door as she arrived. She took the box he offered and silently watched him head back into his apartment. She took the box inside and pulled out of it a secure satellite phone. There was a single number programmed on it, one that had apparently called the phone several times already. She considered re-dialing it before chucking it on the couch and ignoring it. She’d only been kidding herself about wanting a conversation with Banner and she didn’t appreciate Karma’s little joke to put the phone in her hand at that moment.

Besides, Banner probably thought he was very clever, sending her the phone the way he had and she didn’t want to encourage him. He likely still had no idea she’d been tracking his movements since he’d left.

He had asked her to trust him, not realizing how irrelevant a request that was to her; Coulson had asked her to keep him safe and she had intended to see that done no matter what Banner’s own notions were to the contrary. She’d had someone sitting on him and Stark’s lab since the morning he left and knew he was still safely tucked inside Stark’s facility. She’d also known the phone was coming her way for days and she didn’t want to chat or gossip or discuss his feelings or whatever the hell reason he’d had for sending it.

Instead, she sat at the table and considered her take-out options. She had a week of well-deserved leave-time coming to her and figured she’d start it with food that was horrible and barely counted as actual food. Some kind of fried nugget of something unrecognizable sounded amazing after the many MREs she’d been through recently.

The phone on the couch rang. She rolled her eyes.

She didn’t particularly want to answer it, but given the number of missed calls, it seemed a given that he would keep calling until she did. She walked over and answered, intending to end whatever friendship fantasy Bruce had developed for her.

“Hello? Natasha?”

It was Pepper Potts, of all people, and a very unwelcome surprise. Natasha had a long history with Pepper and knew she wouldn’t reach out unless it was necessary. Pepper managed a multi-trillion dollar company almost as an afterthought, needing most of her time to manage Tony Stark and his unpredictable, destructive eccentricities. If she was calling for help, Natasha knew to listen.

“Miss Potts?”

“Oh, thank God…” came out of the receiver. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked simply.

“Honestly? I’m not sure how to explain over the phone. Can you come to Washington? I think Tony and Bruce are in over their heads… and I don’t say that lightly, as you can imagine… but, well… Bruce won’t let me bring in any help. You were the only one he’d let me call.”

Natasha had been moving towards the door before Pepper had said ‘Washington’ and was on the street before she’d finished speaking. She cursed herself for getting cocky and letting Banner get anywhere near Tony Stark. She’d let him manipulate her and bring her emotions into the equation. She’d gotten reckless and now things had gone wrong. Naturally. It had been a stupid, rookie move on her part.

That’s what she got for being so nice.

She thought briefly about how Coulson was going to have her ass over this before realizing her greater fear was that he’d be disappointed in her. She’d never failed him before and the very idea of it filled her with shame and regret. She shipped out for Washington immediately and vowed to fix it – whatever it was.

Fucking Tony Stark and his fucking brilliant ideas…

***

She found her own way into Stark Resilient’s laboratory space and took in the scene. She wanted to know what was happening before she spoke to anyone. She always did better when she made her own assessments.

She had learned a thing or two about getting around Stark’s AI systems back when she’d ‘worked’ for his Legal department, but Stark had upgraded considerably since then. She hadn’t expected any less, but was still disappointed by how quickly Jarvis had spotted her and reported her location. Pepper was just pouring tea for her as she entered an office space at the back of the main lab.

“Natasha,” she said warmly, standing to greet her as she walked in. “Thank you for coming. I really appreciate your haste… and your discretion.”

Natasha nodded as if she’d expected Pepper to be there. “Of course,” she said simply, betraying no emotion. She accepted the tea and held it.

Pepper knew better than to waste her time, so Natasha took notice when she didn’t immediately offer information. Instead, Pepper motioned for her to sit. She did so, curiosity and concern welling in her.

She watched Pepper take another sip of her tea and recognized it for the stalling tactic it was. Pepper was rattled and was struggling to find the right words. That alarmed Natasha more than any screaming alarm wails could have; Pepper was never at a loss for words. Not with Natasha. Their history didn’t allow for such.

Pepper took another moment and then looked up at her. She smiled in a way most would have read as ‘polite,’ but Natasha read as apologetic.

“Thank you for coming,” she said again. Natasha nodded in response and understood it to mean that Pepper genuinely didn’t know how to begin this conversation, so Natasha took the lead.

“Did Bruce tell you I was back in Odessa?” she asked casually. She knew Pepper had a fondness for the city and had spent time studying its art and architecture. Mentioning it had the effect she had hoped for; Pepper smiled broadly as the pleasant memories surfaced. She knew it would take a little of the edge off.

“No, he didn’t. Did you have time to look around?”

She smiled in what she knew would be seen as a ‘just between us girls’ kind of way. “I always find the time,” she lied. She didn’t care nearly as much for that sort of thing as her unlikely friend did, especially while on mission, but this conversation wasn’t about her. She needed Pepper to relax.

Pepper smiled again and mentally disappeared into those pleasant memories. Natasha watched as the distant look slowly focused back on Natasha and was pleased to see that as it did, the smile remained.

“He hasn’t spoken to me about much of anything, really. He was all business when he arrived. We had a few chats here and there, but then… I don’t know. Something happened. He’s… distant.”

She looked up at Natasha, obviously aware of how un-alarming that sounded. She leaned in and placed a hand over Natasha’s wrist.

“I know what Bruce is like. This is different.”

Natasha did not doubt her. She never doubted Pepper.

“What has Tony done?” she asked with a delicate tone to offset the indelicate question.

The distant look returned for a moment and Pepper frowned a little. “I think he fixed him.”

“Fixed him?”

Pepper looked at her with sad, apologetic eyes. “I think he’s just… Bruce again. No more Hulk.”

Of all the potential problems she could have walked into, that particular ‘problem’ hadn’t even made Natasha’s list. She wasn’t entirely certain she knew how to address it.

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Neither did Bruce,” Pepper replied with an empathetic sort of regretful tone. “Tony just… did it.”

The disappointment in Pepper’s voice hung in the room. They both knew Tony had crossed a line he hadn’t even bothered to look for. It was the story of Stark’s life, or rather, the story of Pepper’s. She was forever cleaning up after his genius and its inability to see consequences. Or other people.

Worse, Natasha knew how much Bruce had been looking forward to learning how to make the Hulk a more effective member of the Avengers. She remembered the confidant smile on Bruce’s face as he’d explained his plans in her kitchen. She knew what Bruce had wanted from this trip to Stark’s and understood what Tony had taken from him.

_“I know what I want now. I can make that clear to him,”_ Bruce had said.

Given how much Bruce obviously hated himself, Natasha could only imagine the torment and grief he was internalizing over his ‘failure’ to anticipate Tony’s actions. Natasha had been right to be wary of Stark, but a prideful ‘I told you so’ wasn’t what she craved. Instead, all she wanted was to find Banner, secure him, and then go find Tony Stark. She wanted to have a few ‘words’ with him about his decision-making process. And she wanted to make him bleed.

“Where is he now?” she asked quietly, carefully removing all emotion from her tone.

“I set him up in my apartment. I figured it was the least I could do. I think it broke him to lose that part of himself.”

“No, Pepper. I mean, where is Tony?”

Pepper looked down at her tea and Natasha watched as she drew a tired breath. “I don’t know.”

Natasha tilted her head slightly at the unexpected answer. Pepper always knew where Stark was. She had prescience about that sort of thing that rivaled Coulson’s. The comment went a long way towards explaining why Pepper was so rattled; her world was most definitely out of balance.

Pepper recognized her look and steeled her gaze. “I kicked him out after what he did. I don’t think he understood why.”

She reached out and touched Natasha’s hand again. She obviously knew where Natasha’s murderous thoughts were settling and redirected them. “I would very much appreciate it if you would go talk to Bruce. Just talk to him and see how he is.” She nodded towards the tea Natasha still held but hadn’t sipped. “Bring him that. It’s his favorite.”

***

Whatever she’d expected to find him doing – moping, sleeping, sciencey stuff – he again surprised her by doing none of those things. Instead, he was in Pepper’s kitchen making a salad and humming happily along with the classical music he had blaring through the apartment.

She recognized the piece from the practice halls of the Bolshoi and despite its happy tone, felt instantly and instinctively defensive. She had no pleasant memories of her time with the ballet. When Bruce looked up and saw her, he smiled in an overly-friendly way that reminded her of the other performers she’d learned to be so wary of; she knew it belied a danger born of cunning or madness.

She smiled back in a very similar way.

“Natasha,” he said in a seemingly friendly greeting that she didn’t trust. “Pepper mentioned you might be coming. I’ve started lunch. Can you grab the wine?”

He gestured with his knife at the wine rack down the counter. She set down the tea she’d been holding and moved towards them.

‘Sure, Doc. Red or white?”

He paused and overly-considered her question. “Why not both?” he answered finally, the friendly smile still plastered across his face. She smiled too, like it had been an amusing notion and instantly understood what Pepper had meant; Bruce was not himself. Not at all.

She grabbed the wine and casually surveyed her space, assessing her options for subduing him. As she considered the large knife in his hand, she prepared herself for anything.

“So what are you making, Doc?” she asked, even though she’d recognized the distinctive and familiar smell the moment she’s walked into the kitchen.

“I’ve been making a solyanka. I hope it turns out alright. I’ve been trying to follow a recipe Jarvis had, but it’s my first time making one. You’ll have to be honest with the feedback.”

She made a point of turning her back to him and moved to smell the soup. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the aroma.

“Honestly, Doc? I’m not sure I’ll be much of a judge. I never had a grandmother to make it for me.” She turned to face him, catching his eyes. She saw a brief hesitation there as he considered something or perhaps rethought something. She relaxed her smile and moved towards him, setting one bottle next to him and reaching around him slowly to grab the corkscrew that was sitting on his other side. She let her arm brush very lightly against the small of his back and registered the tension he was holding there.

“But it smells amazing,” she finished. She opened a bottle and poured two glasses. She took a sip from her glass and he reached over to do likewise. She held his look for just a moment, assessing him, and then waved her arm to indicate the rest of the cavernous apartment.

It was neat and simple in the way only extreme luxury seemed to be able to create. There was modern and comfortable looking furniture spread throughout, leading up to a large, glass wall that let them view the snowy wilderness below. It was serene and the carefully selected art that hung around the room seemed to only enhance the effect, rather than detract from it.

It was a very calming apartment where everything seemed in balance. There was no mistaking it for Pepper’s personal space and Natasha could understand why she’d wanted Bruce to stay there. It felt incredibly safe and warm and like the kind of space you could curl up and disappear into for days without a care in the world being allowed to affect you.

“This is a pretty nice set-up, Doc. Much nicer than my place.”

He nodded and sipped his wine. “It certainly has a charm, doesn’t it? Pepper has been very good to me.”

She considered the statement as bait to begin the conversation neither one of them really wanted to have. She knew he wasn’t stupid; no matter how recent events had or had not affected him, he had to know why she was there. Still, she wanted to do this on her terms rather than on his and so, instead of taking his bait, she kept up the pleasant fiction he had created.  She took her wine and moved towards the glass wall. She stared out at the woods and the twinkling water in the distance.

“I can imagine. With a place like this, how could you fail to be a good host?” She didn’t turn to look at him, but listened for his movements. She was curious if he would recognize that as the jab at Stark she’d intended.

She heard him huff out a quiet chuckle and then move to stir the soup. After a moment, he came and stood next to her. His glass was empty, but he was carrying the wine bottle in his other hand.

“Would you like to discuss the weather next, or are you through with the small talk?”

“You tell me, Doc.”

He smiled nonchalantly and refilled both his glass and hers, even though hers hadn’t needed refilling.

“I really appreciate you coming out here, Natasha. I know you’re a busy woman.”

“Actually, I’m on vacation. I have nowhere to be.”

He smiled as if he doubted that. “Well, I appreciate it all the same. I wanted to say thank you for putting up with me.” He turned to walk away and nudged at her elbow for her to follow. “Come on. Soup’s ready.”

She followed him into the next room and to the table he’d set with fine china and flowers. The setting rivaled any of the finest restaurants she’d ever been assigned to enjoy. He held her chair and pushed it in for her. He set the wine down and went back for the food.

“I know it’s a little fancy for soup and salad, but it seemed a crime to let this china just sit gathering dust.” He set the food in front of her and then got his own. Then he sat next to her, rather than across from her. She had difficulty judging his intentions with the closeness.

“And besides,” he continued. “I think Stark owes us a nice lunch.” He smiled and winked at her.

Winked.

His coyness was killing her, so she decided to up her game.

She smiled one of her best smiles and tilted her head just right, so her hair fell in just right the way and at just the right angle. She uncrossed her ankles and picked up her wine. She ignored him and took in the table scene, then reached across him in just the right way, taking a piece of bread from the basket.

He smiled and speared some of his salad on a fork. “Please don’t do that,” he said, almost laughing to himself.

“No bread?” she asked, matching his laughing smile.

“No, you can have all the bread you want. Just don’t do… whatever this is. Let’s just have a nice lunch.”

She was too practiced to let the smile drop from her face, but she sat back and gently created a little space between them.

“And I’d appreciate it if you put the knife back on the table,” he continued. “Really, Natasha. Let me treat you to this nice lunch.”

She decided to play one of his own games.

“Why are you doing this, Doc? Why treat me?”

“Maybe I’m just a nice guy,” he answered. He looked up at her and smiled, obviously recognizing her question as his from the bakery and calling her on the tactic.

“I’m sure that you are, Doc, but why…”

He placed his hand lightly over hers, the gentle touch cutting her off. “Does everything have to be a game, Natasha?”

She held his gaze and again, tried to guess his mindset, but after a moment studying him, he tilted his head slightly as if considering something. He scrunched his forehead in a mix of confusion and pity.

“Have you never had lunch with someone who wasn’t a mission?”

She didn’t like how the game had suddenly turned. This conversation wasn’t supposed to be about her and she wasn’t going to let it continue in that direction.

“This is very nice and I appreciate the effort you’ve gone to, Doc, but we both know why I’m here,” she said.

“Yes. To have lunch with me.”

“No, Doc. That’s just a pleasant bonus.”

He smiled in just the right way. “I’m glad it’s at least pleasant.”

She pushed back in her seat and crossed her arms defensively. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed back in his own seat. He looked her in the eyes.

“I’m fine, Natasha. I know Pepper is worried, but she needn’t be. I’ve got everything under control.”

“I agree. You look perfectly in control… which is the problem.”

He leaned back and mimicked her, crossing her arms over his chest. “How exactly is my being in control a problem?”

“When it makes me think you’re in denial.”

“Ahhh…” he said. “So if you don’t understand my reaction, it must be wrong.”

Again, he was making this about her and it was starting to piss her off. He was good at deflecting, so she got direct.

“What did Stark do to you?” she asked.

“When?” he asked casually in reply. Fucking smart guys.

He shook his head and waved his hand before she could answer, signaling that he was giving up the contrary game. “Nothing,” he replied simply.

“Really?” she asked with pointed skepticism. “So everything is rainbows and unicorns here?”

He laughed at that and smiled at her. “Well, no, I didn’t say that. But he didn’t do anything. I mean, he _tried_ … but in the end, he didn’t do anything at all.” Bruce paused to spear some more lettuce. His look hardened instantly. “I didn’t let him get that far.”

“Didn’t let him get that far doing what, Doc?”

He looked at her in a way she couldn’t judge. He seemed to be studying her with a mix of excitement and disappointment. It was an expression she’d never seen before and it surprised her. It was astonishing how this man was able to keep her guessing.

“Can you please call me Bruce? I mean, I did break out the good china for you.” He winked again and smiled, but she could see his steel underneath. She could tell he was serious.

“What happened, Bruce?” she rephrased quietly, making sure her own steel was evident in the tone. He nodded, acknowledging her acquiescence, and speared some more of his salad. He took a bite and thought for a moment.

“You were right. He was full of shit and trying to play me. He had no monitoring system – although I still think the idea has merit. I may pursue it on my own…” He looked up at her. “Please try the soup. I put an inordinate amount of time into it.”

She read the look in his eyes and conceded. She reached over and tried the soup and was, for a brief moment, completely without any other thought but how good it was. It was rich and delicious and had obviously been crafted with a great deal of time and care. It was easily one of the best things she’d ever been served.

The look on her face made him smile and relax. He let out a breath she hadn’t realized he’d been holding and nodded lightly to himself. He was obviously very pleased that she was as well.

“Stark had other plans for me. He had identified what he was calling ‘Hulk cells,’” he continued, pausing to roll his eyes just a little. “They seem to have particularly compromised DNA and he developed a theory that if he could somehow separate these from the rest of my system, then… I don’t know… I think in his head somehow I’d go ‘poof’ and stop being the Hulk.”

He waved a hand before she could ask a question. “I know, I know. It’s bullshit. The man built up a pretty good understanding of molecular biology when he was building Coulson, but he forgot one very important element with me.”He looked up to see if she would guess what that element was, but she sat motionless, waiting for him to answer. He smiled inwardly.

“The Hulk himself,” he continued. “He’s self-aware because I’m self-aware. If I figure out what’s going on, _he_ figures out what’s going on… and stops it. The only reason Tony Stark is not a paste on the floor of his own lab right now is because I was looking for his deception, found it, and counteracted it. The Hulk trusted I had things under control. And _that’s_ the problem, Natasha. Tony has no idea what he is doing and yet he was still willing to lure me out here and experiment on me. _Me_ , of all people.”

Natasha worked hard to control the anger that was welling inside her. She kept her body still and controlled while she began thinking of all the things she wanted to do to Tony Stark, some of which did involve him being a paste on the floor of his own lab.

“He needs our help, Natasha,” Bruce said quietly.

The statement was so unexpected that she genuinely thought she’d misheard.

“I’m sorry?”

“He needs us. We need to find him and get him help.”

She stared at Bruce as if he’d again spoken gibberish. “He needs to be stopped, Bruce. He could have hurt you.”

“Killed me” he added, nodding in agreement. “I was watching him closely. I could see what he was going to do and I played along. I made sure none of his equipment worked the way he thought it would, but if I hadn’t been paying that kind of attention… Natasha, I’m sure he would have killed me without any idea of how or why.” He took a breath and collected his thoughts. “I think he’s crossed over that line where he’s so fixated on the problem that he is no longer able to see the danger – to himself or to others.”

“Which is why he needs to be stopped.”

He nodded again. “I agree. We need to find him and help him.” 

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew how to resolve problems like Tony Stark. She’d done it many times before and none of those times had involved ‘help.’

Bruce seemed to read the thoughts in her head and reached out to lightly touch her knee. “He’s in pain, Natasha.”

“Not nearly enough.”

He smiled in a polite way, as if he’d known she would say something like that and had already planned his response. “He’s terrified and trying to protect the people he loves. We have to get him to trust that we’re OK as we are.”

“Are we OK as we are? I mean, you’re apparently no closer to solving your own problems then you were when you left me.”

“No, I think that I am. I think I got what I came for on this trip.”

“But you said he hadn’t made the monitoring system.”

He shook his head in return. “No, he didn’t, but that’s not why I came here. I said I wanted to find a way for you to trust me and I think I found that.”

Again she tried to judge his thoughts and found she couldn’t. “Bruce, I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t explode, Natasha. I saw the threat and resolved it without the Hulk. Even now when I’m absolutely certain Tony would have killed me, all I can think about is finding a way to help him. I know who I am and I’m not worried about my hands being the wrong ones.”

She sat for a moment and considered him. She could feel a kind of warmth building in her as she thought about what he’d said and realized why he had seemed so different to her – Bruce had started to accept himself. He had found a new sense of purpose and some measure of contentment.

He reached over and took her hand. “I’ve thought about you a lot while I’ve been here, Natasha. I knew that if anything went wrong, you would come and you would fix it. I believed that so much that the Other Guy believed it, too. We knew you would have our back and knowing that allowed me to focus on the other problems at hand. I was never afraid while I was here, not even once.”

The sincerity in his voice left her speechless. Nothing about this trip was turning out as she had thought it would and for the first time in a long time, that was proving to be a good thing.

“Tony doesn’t have that, but he needs it desperately,” he continued.

She squeezed his hand once and with the other hand, placed the knife back on the table. He looked at it, smiled, and shook his head; he’d clearly forgotten she’d been holding it. She leaned in closer to him so their faces were only inches apart.

“Tony Stark is a dangerous man, Bruce. I know you want to help him, but what if he can’t be helped? What if he needs to be stopped in order to save lives?”

“You’re a dangerous woman, Natasha. There was a time when someone wanted to stop you with a bullet, but someone else made a different decision. I want you to trust me to do the same for Tony.”

This was an entirely different situation than her ‘recruitment’ and she knew it, but she took his point. Trying to help Tony was important to him and frankly, it sounded like something Coulson would advocate for as well. She decided to try an experiment of her own.

“Alright, Doc,” she said quietly. “I’ll follow your lead. How do you want to play this?”

He smiled, as if knowing it was a question that could be interpreted in several different ways and appreciated each one of them.

“I want to find Tony, get him safe, and then find him some help.”

“And if we can’t?”

The muscles along his jaw line clenched almost involuntarily and she was certain his eyes flashed green, though the color was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Then I’ll stop him,” he answered simply and with a hard finality that told her he understood the risk he was about to take.

She nodded once. “Alright. Then after we eat, we find him and bring him home.”

He relaxed a bit and smiled a thankful smile. He squeezed her hand one more time before turning back to his soup.

They had a very pleasant lunch.

***

Bruce sat and spoke with Pepper for a long time. There was tea and tears and Natasha didn’t feel comfortable staying. She left them still talking and went to Tony’s private lab.

“Jarvis?” she called out. “Do you know where Stark is right now?”

“Of course, Agent Romanov,” was the AI’s reply.

“Where?”

“I’m afraid I can’t share that information with you. It is privileged.”

“Privileged to whom?”

“Privileged to me, Agent Romanov.”

She had guessed that Tony would lock everyone out from his system, but had thought it worth a try before reaching out to her own contacts. She started to walk away.

“But I can, however, share some other information that I have not been specifically prohibited from sharing.”

“Why Jarvis, that sounded downright subversive,” she replied, pausing in the doorway.

“Of course not, Agent Romanov. I would never subvert Mr. Stark’s intentions, but I believe it would be decidedly against his intentions to withhold information about recent S.H.I.E.L.D. activities in the area.” Jarvis paused for a moment, possibly for dramatic effect if she was not mistaken. “Considering that you are his teammate and friend, after all.”

She raised an eyebrow, both at the attempted manipulation and at the idea of ‘recent S.H.I.E.L.D. activities.’

“Go on, Jarvis. Tell me what you know.”

“Well, Agent Romanov. It would appear that a S.H.I.E.L.D. drone that had been maintaining surveillance over this facility left our air space approximately two minutes after Mr. Stark left on an… undisclosed trajectory. Intercepted transmissions suggest the drone is currently in Vancouver and is providing location information about an… undisclosed target… to local S.H.I.E.L.D. teams. I believe said target is currently eating a Japadog in Griffith Park and signing autographs for children. I believe said target has also turned off his communication systems and is not responding to warnings.”

“Does ‘said target’ also have a shiny metal ass?”

“Yes, Agent Romanov. I believe that would be an accurate description of the target.”

“Thanks, Jarvis. What do you have in this facility that can get Bruce and me to Vancouver quickly?”

***

Tony Stark had flying cars. Of course he did. They made it a very short trip to Vancouver.

They found Tony sitting on a park bench, watching a low-budget scifi show film in the park. Exhausted actors in alien costumes stood just off to his right, looking bored and desperate for coffee. Stark seemed to fit the scene perfectly and everyone seemed to be ignoring him.

What concerned Natasha was that the local S.H.I.E.L.D. team Jarvis had mentioned was nowhere in sight. If she were an optimist, she’d believe the team was staying just out of sight, not wanting to make a scene in front of so many civilians with cameras, but Natasha had never been much of an optimist. This felt like a trap to her.

She moved slowly and cautiously around the periphery while Bruce made a beeline for Stark. She watched him sit and start the conversation. She had no idea what he was saying, but was sure whatever it was, it was good. She was coming to learn that Bruce had a gift for finding the right words.

There were a lot of hand gestures, mostly from Stark. He laughed a few times and made a few obviously pointed statements. Eventually, Bruce laughed as well and Natasha relaxed, trusting that he had the situation under control. She took her eyes from them and again surveyed the park. She searched for the agents she knew had to be there. She looked to all the potential spaces that would provide cover and tactical advantage, but they seemed empty. She looked for sniper perches, too, but found no one.

She shook her head. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were disciplined and curious. If they had received ‘target’ location coordinates, they would have pursued. There was not a chance they had ignored them or been ordered away. The only other possibility was that they were somewhere in plain sight…

She stopped short and looked back at the ‘actors’ standing near Tony and Bruce, paying careful attention to the weapons in their hands. They looked alien and also very familiar. One of the actors caught her eye and immediately looked away. It was a dead giveaway. They were agents in disguise.

She started to move towards them when a young member of the film crew moved to stand in her way.

“Agent Romanov, I’d like you to come with me please.”

God, they made them young these days. This agent looked barely out of high school.

“And why is that, Agent…” she said, leading for the agent to give her name. The agent said nothing. Natasha gave her a measure of respect for that and silently decided to remember her. Another member of the film crew set down his light rig and moved to join them. He was considerably larger and Natasha noted the weapons stashed in his tool belt.

“Please come with us, Agent Romanov. We have some questions we’d like answered,” the young agent continued.

She looked over at Tony and Bruce. They had both tensed and were staring directly at her and the agents, like wolves waiting for the prey to move. Neither one of them was watching the two ‘actors’ who had moved tactically behind them and were training weapons at their heads.

“You weren’t after Stark, were you?” she asked, turning back to the agents.

“We have questions for him as well, but we’re more interested in securing Dr. Banner and determining why a senior field agent hid knowledge of his location.”

“You used Stark as bait.”

“Please come with us, Agent. There is no need for this to get messy.”

“Natasha?” Bruce called out. He was standing now and looking a little larger than he had a few minutes earlier. She held a hand, signaling for him to stay put.

“Ok, you’re obviously new to this,” she said to the agents. “If your agents over there fire, they’ll probably take out Stark, but they’ll only piss off Banner. The Hulk will appear a half second later and you’ll have a very real problem on your hands at that point. And by the way, I say ’you’ meaning the rest of your team because in that half second when you turn to look, I’ll have you unconscious and on the ground. Is the rest of your team ready to handle both me and him?”

The young female agent kept her steady eyes on Natasha. “Yes,” she said simply. “We will bring you and Dr. Banner in if we have to destroy the entire park to do it.”

“Really?” Natasha asked with skepticism. She looked up and around for drones and seeing none, turned back to the young agent. “I don’t see any weapons large enough to do that and I don’t think you can call in a strike before Banner and I can get away.”

“I don’t need to call anything in,” the young agent replied.

Natasha’s arm suddenly started to tingle. It was an annoyance at first that suddenly became alarming.  The sensation intensified sharply and she realized her muscles were vibrating uncontrollably and increasingly painfully. She felt her shoulder vibrate viciously in its socket. She heard it snap and then felt the familiar pain of dislocation spread out across it. She let out a short gasp, more of surprise than of pain.

The agent stopped looking at her and the vibrations suddenly ceased. She turned to look at Banner and Natasha watched with horror as a small, localized earthquake erupted under his feet. He stumbled to maintain his balance as the park bench was uprooted and flipped. Tony kicked off from the ground and hovered on his repulsors. He stared in shock, trying to process what was happening. Instinctively, Natasha held her hand up to them, begging and pleading with them not to respond.

The agent looked back at Natasha and the mini quake stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

“Holy fuck,” slipped from Natasha’s mouth. “Who are you?”

“Come with us, Agent Romanov,” the agent calmly repeated.

“No,” Natasha answered just as calmly.

The young agent hesitated for just a second; she obviously wasn’t used to resistance after providing demonstrations of her abilities.

“You’ve lost your advantage over Stark,” Natasha continued. “With him armored and in the air, your team will never take him. And your little earthquake show, or whatever that was, while pretty good, doesn’t strike me as something you can use on all three of us at once. You’ll have to prioritize your targeting and that will cost you time; time we will happily use.”

She’d put a malicious harshness on that last statement and then grabbed hold of her dislocated arm. She pulled hard on it, with a practiced motion. She settled it back in place and rolled it to test the motion.

“It’s alright,” she continued. “It was a rookie move. You got cocky wanting to show off and it cost you. You’ll learn. But for now, here’s how you can salvage things and protect both your team and the remaining civilians in this park: I’ll go with you – quietly and willingly – but Stark and Banner walk away. That’s my offer. Take it, or we’ll see what other rookie moves you make before I put you on the ground.”

The young agent stood motionless, listening to the voice in her earpiece. Her eyes squinted just enough for Natasha to tell she was unhappy with the order she’d received. Natasha was impressed by the lack of reaction. This kid was going to be good, once she got out of a training bra.

“Your terms are accepted,” the agent said after a moment.

Natasha looked over at Bruce. “Take him home, Bruce. I’ll meet up with you later. Everything’s fine.”

“Natasha…” he said, taking a step toward her. She gave him a hard look and he stopped.

“Take him home. I’ll be fine.” She didn’t allow him a reply; she simply turned and started walking towards the ‘production trucks.’ The two agents followed closely behind. When they reached the trucks, a more familiar, suited agent got out.

“Agent Johnson,” he addressed the young agent, obviously looking for orders.

“Secure her,” young Agent Johnson replied.

Natasha looked at her with shock as she registered that this kid was already an S.O. That she was going to have to watch out for her was Natasha’s last thought before a bag went over her head and her lights went out.

***

There were a lot of questions to be answered and it was over a week before Natasha walked out of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and back in to her apartment. She was unwilling to admit even to herself just how exhausted, frustrated, and in pain she was.

She was surprised to find Bruce waiting inside for her. He had laptops on the table, all seemingly running different programs, and a large map tacked up on the wall. It was covered in notes and a large number of circles with x’s through them. He stood when he saw her.

“Natasha,” he stammered out with surprise and concern.

“Bruce,” she replied simply.

He walked forward and stopped just short of her. He looked like he didn’t know what to do or say, until he saw the enormous, yellowing bruise on the side of her face. His eyes flashed green and she reached out to put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“I’m alright, Bruce,” she said. “This wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D., this was… me underestimating someone.” He didn’t seem convinced and so she calmly pushed past him and walked towards the table, pulling on his arm for him to follow. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“There was no sign of you for a week, Natasha. Tony and I were searching for you.”

She nodded her thanks and placed a tired hand over his as he sat down. “They had a lot of questions and… knew better than to trust my immediate answers.” She chuckled lightly to herself. “They were mostly about you. They asked about the other Avengers, too, but everything always came back to you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “They seem to think you’re a very interesting fellow.”

He didn’t smile; he just kept his concerned look that threatened to permanently furrow his brow. She laughed in spite of herself. She’d had a lot of time to think about him over the past week and that increasingly familiar look of concern was the one she’d chosen to focus on while answering uncomfortable questions. It had amused her at first and then, started to bring her comfort. It was surprising how nice it was see that face again in the flesh.

“Natasha, what did they…”

“There was actually call to bring me up on treason charges,” she said, cutting him off and laughing at the situation.

“But they didn’t…”

She waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “No. I know where the bodies are buried.” She coyly looked up at him. “And they know better than to hold me.”

“Natasha…”

“And, eventually, I reminded them what happened the last time they held an Avenger too long. After… lengthy discussions, they decided I was just ‘following orders.’”

He nodded with obvious relief. “So what happens now?”

“Nothing,”

“They’ll just forget it all happened?” he asked with some disbelief.

“No. I truly mean nothing. They no longer require my services.”

“They fired you?” he stammered out, the disbelief growing.

“Well… someone fired someone,” she answered, trying unsuccessfully to make the conversation lighter. She dropped the smile when he didn’t laugh. “It’s fine, Bruce. They’ve already found my young replacement. And besides, I was always more loyal to Coulson anyway,” she lied.

He seemed to know that she was lying and nodded in understanding of the pain and disappointment of rejection she was unsuccessfully trying to mask.

“Then, what would you like to happen now?”

She looked at him and realized she had no idea. She’d never had such a choice in her life. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “What would you like to happen?”

He reached over and kissed her. It surprised her and she pulled back, looking at him and for his game. She didn’t see one; she only saw his earnest, honest face. The one she’d thought about for a solid week, the one she’d desperately wanted to see again.

Fuck it, she thought to herself. She was tired of playing games. She grabbed him by the lapel and pulled him to her. She kissed him aggressively and with repressed passion, but he pulled away. He seemed almost startled and his reaction surprised her again.

He stood up and she thought for a second that she’d blown the opportunity and that he would walk away. Instead, he reached down and held out his hand to her. She took it gingerly and let him gently coax her to stand. He led her down the hall to her bedroom and only there, turned back to kiss her. He reached his hand behind her neck and gently pulled her closer to him. She shuddered slightly at his unexpected warmth, letting it take away the chill on her skin.

She kept him moving and walked him backwards to the bed, letting it catch his knees. He sat down and she leaned into him. She went to quickly pull her shirt off, but he stopped her and slowed her down. He slowly slipped his shirt over his head and she mimicked his speed. Then she settled up on to his lap and kissed him, running her hand through his hair and slowly pushing him backward. Two could play at that desirous game, she figured as she settled over him and gently pinned him.

She moved over him, exploring how he responded to her touch. She smiled as she watched his face and the expressions she could get him to make. It gave her a certain kind of pleasure in and of itself. He sat up and met her, kissing her with closed eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her warmth to him and then slowly rolling her over.

He settled over her and started low. He moved slowly and methodically up her body, finding softness and caressing it. It was agonizing and torturous and blissful. She bit into his collar bone, lightly at first. She hadn’t meant to do it. It had been an involuntary movement as her body fought against the pleasure welling up inside her. And still, he took his time. He moved slowly and with precision. It was like nothing she’d experienced before.

When she could take no more, she rolled him over and set her own pace. He seemed content to let her take control a while before he changed the rhythm slightly and created something new, something that seemed an equal measure of give and take. She moved with him; no longer wrestling or asserting, but enjoying the move and flow of it. She reached down and kissed his chest, moving up his body with her own gentle touches. She found his mouth as he rolled her back over.

She let him.

She tried to think of the last time it hadn’t been a game or sport or deadly serious and found she couldn’t remember if it ever had been. She knew that didn’t actually matter and yet, it seemed incredibly important, like a revelation.

She smiled in the final throes, thinking of him and her and the very idea of such a thing. It was preposterous and mad and incredible; full of danger and power and potential.

As he lay breathing heavily beside her, she reached over and gently kissed the mark she’d left on his collar bone.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her sweetly. “Don’t ever be,” he replied.

***

Natasha moved across the dark room, picking up pieces of her discarded clothes as she went. Her steps didn’t make a sound as she slipped out the window and onto the fire escape’s landing. She rubbed the chill from her arms and relished breathing in the night air; it reminded her of home and she smiled at the few good memories she still held of that place.

Her house guest stirred inside and she found her smile didn’t fall away at the sound. It would seem she had a few good memories of this place as well.

But, still, the time had come to leave.

Leaning back against the brick wall, she listened to the sounds of the city. It had been as a good a place as any she had lived, but now she found herself wanting more. A quiet excitement slowly built in her as she thought about starting a new life, one of her own choosing. It felt terrifying and unfamiliar. It was exhilarating.

She was a master spy. Her ability to manipulate others had kept her alive all these years. It was kind of funny to her, therefore, that those abilities had led her to someone who trusted her implicitly. It was the one thing she would never have believed she’d want so desperately.

She took another moment and stepped back inside. She slipped into bed beside Bruce and though still asleep, he slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. She easily fell asleep against him, a contented smile playing at her lips.

Fucking smart guys.

*****

 


End file.
